Chapin City Blues

Writing is writing whether done for duty, profit, or fun.

Last night, I killed a cockroach. It was a giant motherfucker. I crushed his upper body and then tried to finish him off. But like I said, he was a giant motherfucker. It didn’t work out so well. Instead, he just laid on his back twitching. His front legs grasping the air. A sense of …

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